


On a Sevenmas Day

by SanSanFanFan



Series: The On A.... Day SanSan Smut Series [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gifts, Misunderstandings, Sevenmas, Smut, The Maiden's Night, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSanFanFan/pseuds/SanSanFanFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sevenmas gifts... and misunderstandings resolved.</p>
<p>Part of the On A... Day SanSan smut series.</p>
<p>MERRY SEVENMAS!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Sevenmas Day

A glimmering golden light drifted in front of Sansa’s eyes as she found herself falling into daydreams.  No, not daydreams.  _A_ dream.  A memory of a dream brought back to her as she looked at the gold seven pointed stars hanging from the market stall’s red and white striped canopy.  Stars twirling and glinting into echoes of light before her, each of the seven points flashing at her in her reverie. 

A dream.  A Maiden’s Night dream brought back by the stars. A dream of him…

“Where are you this time, Sansa?!”

Sansa was startled, coming back to where Margaery stood in front of her, her soft pink lips pouting, her hands on her silk clad hips.  Standing by the stall the Tyrell girl had stopped looking at the elaborately jewelled necklaces and pendants in order to consider Sansa.  Sansa, who was away with the spirits again!

“Forgive me Margaery!  They are very… ornate.” Sansa focussed on the stall and the items there, trying desperately to muster up some enthusiasm for Sevenmas and gift buying.  On the rich dark velvet of the display there were large sapphires set in burnished gold, egg sized rubies on thick golden chains, sickly yellow beryls glinting.  They were not to Sansa’s taste at all.  She preferred the simpler pendants she had seen at another market stall that Margaery had pulled her past on the way to this one, their tall shadow following behind them, swordhilt in hand. 

There had been small pendants on long chains; cleverly crafted little animals, leaves, flowers, that would hang low into the bodice.  Down low, from where he could pull it out slowly from between her breasts, before being surprised, finding at the end of the chain the small silver dog running that she’d just caught sight of before Margaery pulled her to this gaudy display. A small silver dog she could wear with her always and that no one would know about…

It was strange.  Even that silver pendant reminded her of the dream.  How was that, though? When she had only just seen the broadly smiling craftswoman’s work? And the dream had not been about pendants or Sevenmas at all! Again the seven pointed stars that adorned every corner of the market weaved in front of her eyes, dancing her into a trance as the warm sea scented breezes of King’s Landing blew through them.

She had dreamt of snow first.  A thick coating that she knew well from her Sevenmas’s in the North.  There had been none of the stifling heat and dust of the Southron festival. 

Sandor had been there, and she had been well pleased that he was.  His large coarse hand had grabbed hers, walking her rapidly through the snow under the stars to the shadows of the trees, her dress pulling and catching on the drifts behind them as she happily followed.  Then her dress was gone.  Completely naked, she found herself pinned to the tree by his great strength, raised up and quickly parted for him as he rubbed hard against her in his old and battered armour.  And then he was naked too, his strong movements forcing her back against the cracking silver bark as he roughly pushed into her, his manhood filling her as she moaned and gasped, before howls emerged from her lips. His dark hair drifted down over her face and his placed his head to hers, his eyes closing in feral bliss as he growled and took her with force.  And all the while she was certain that something lay between them, captured between his broad haired chest, and between her painfully yearning breasts. Something small and hard that hung down low there… perhaps something like a pendant, as she had seen today in the market, on this second day of Sevenmas.

She had not thought that Maiden’s Night dreams could be so… unholy! So blissfully wild…

Southron traditions for Sevenmas were certainly different to those of the North were the cold drew people inside to light candles, to pray, to sing, and to be together.  In the South each of the seven days of Sevenmas was dedicated to a different aspect of the New Gods, and each day required different gifts for the different people who mirrored the gods; maidens, warriors, smiths and craftsmen, and so forth.  It was a weeklong festival of gift giving before the final day, Sevenmas proper, when the Stranger was held at bay by a final exchange of gifts to all who were held dear. And Maiden’s Night, the first day, was by far the most popular, involving the giving of sweets to ‘sway’ the Maiden to favour the giver.  The Maiden was thought to send dreams to young women of their true loves.  “Dream of me, my lady” men called out, offering sugar paste flowers, fruits, and stars in the hope of winning the woman.

But she had dreamt of Sandor.  Dreamt of him taking her roughly in the snow bound woods. 

She blushed.  Perhaps it was because she had not seen him, nor been with him in… that way… in such a very long time indeed.  Since the Stranger’s Day Joffrey had kept him closer than ever before, not knowing that the Hound, and Sansa, were responsible for the dire state of his hair and his ragged nerves.  Joffrey was hiding himself away with the Hound, the only man he trusted now, not knowing that he had been the one who had finally scared him true on the Stranger’s Day.  Who had by rights won the purple velvet purse of gold that Sandor had taken away from the unconscious and wretched boy King.

Sansa sighed and looked back at their ever present guard.  Lord Tyrion had insisted that Bronn come with them on their foray to the High Market.  Even though the path between the Keep and the Elite’s marketplace had been cleared and guarded by Gold Cloaks as the nobles did their Sevenmas gift seeking away from the rest of King’s Landing.  Bronn was… he was no Sandor.  Even if the man seemed to share the Hound’s love of drinking and fighting.  He was even now flirting with a stall keeper, a pretty young blonde woman in a low cut bodice who no doubt thought to use her ‘charms’ to draw in the lords and their golden dragons.

“Oh, is he at it again?!” Margaery looked back at Bronn as well.  “I don’t know! Between you drifting away all the time, and our so called guard being distracted by every skirt between here and the Keep I have no idea how I am supposed to get anything done!”

“I am very sorry, Margaery.”

“Did you not sleep well last night? You look pale.  Did perhaps the Maiden visit your dreams with thoughts of someone in particular?!” Margaery moved closer, clasping Sansa’s hands and smiling at her.  “She did, didn’t she?! I can tell!”

“No… no dreams like… _that_.”

“Oh.  I did think you might have done.  The number of sweets Loras sent to your chambers…”

Sansa sighed silently.  She suspected Margaery’s hand in that.  Loras was never more than polite to her.  Boxes and boxes of sweets made from jellied sugars and sweet pastes that arrived all afternoon.  Truly, she had been far, far happier to find the single lemon shaped almond paste sweet outside her chamber door as the very first lights of dawn lengthened shadows in the corridor. 

With Joffrey keeping Sandor to his chambers, Sansa had been sad to find that his small gifts had stopped.  He usually left findings from his patrols of the Keep and its gardens.  Feathers, scraps of ribbon, curious shells and stones.  But for near seven weeks there had been nothing.  Until the sweet. 

She had placed it upon her tongue last thing at night, last night, letting it dissolve there as she had thought of him.  And then she had dreamt of the snow, and the tree, and of him taking her roughly there. Her love.

“What do you think might be a good gift… for a man?” She was hesitant.  She had never shared her secret trysts with Sandor with Margaery, even though the young woman had been the first to encourage her to explore that side of things, to find out what she liked and what she wanted.  Provided, of course, that Sansa fiercely protected her maidenhood. 

Sansa felt a little bad that she had not entirely heeded her friend’s advice on that particular matter… but not too bad.

The brunette was still watching Bronn with the stall keeper, her lips a thin line of disapproval.

“Men.  Men want one thing.  A scabbard for their sword.”

“Oh! Well, I believe that we passed an armourer’s stall…”

“Not that kind of scabbard you dear sweet girl!”

 “Oh!” Sansa flushed red.

“Wait, though, what manner of man?”

“um… well… um…” Sansa stuttered.

“A man like Loras? Elegant, refined, well dressed? Or a man like Bronn?” She glared at the sellsword. “Who is… _not_.”

“I suppose a little more like Bronn than Ser Loras.”

“Ah well, a man like Loras wants something different to a man like Bronn does.”

“What would a ‘Bronn’ want?”

Margaery smirked suddenly, as though an idea had just occurred. “Two scabbards!” 

Bronn looked over as she laughed, meeting the Tyrell flower’s eyes.  Which Sansa then saw dart over to look at the curvy stall keeper as Margaery smiled… wolfishly.  Bronn looked surprised.  What was that all about?!

Sansa was distracted though.  Two scabbards? Would Sandor want… _that_?  True, he was a man of large appetites.  When they had previously been more free to encounter each other in the dark places of the Keep he had sometimes taken her not just once, but twice or more.  And in many different ways.  He did have a hunger in him… and she did wish to please him…

“Would that be difficult to arrange?”

“Hmmm?” Margaery was still looking over at Bronn and the girl.

“To find two scabbards for a man?”

Margaery’s attention was back on her again. “Not so very difficult to arrange, no.  With coin anything can be bought.  But these two other scabbards… would you be using them also?”

Sansa felt her cheeks glowing red. “Might he like that also?”

“Oh, very much! Watching can be very pleasant…”  Bronn was pulling the stallkeeper closer, wrapping his hands about her waist, and kissing her roughly. Sansa was surprised to see that Margaery looked oddly flushed also.

“Perhaps we should get on with our search for Sevenmas gifts” Margaery spoke oddly loudly. “And then we can return to the Keep.  Soon.”

Margaery lifted a particularly gaudy necklace from the display.  A large green flecked opal sat in a gold lattice, surrounded by yellow beryls and pale lilac amethysts that fought each other for space, the colours clashing with each other dramatically.  It was quite possibly the most hideous thing that Sansa had ever seen.  And ridiculously expensive as well!  Sansa’s face paled as she saw the scribbled note by its side.

“What do you think of this?”

Sansa paused, she did not wish to hurt her friend’s feelings.  Worse yet, she feared that the girl might think that she wanted such a monstrosity of gold and gems! But then Sansa was relieved as the beautiful girl whispered into her ear, gently pushing Sansa’s long red hair aside for moment. “I thought perhaps for Queen Cersei.  Do you think that it’s ugly enough?”

Sansa smiled broadly.  Of course! And the Queen Dowager would not possibly be able to refuse such a rich gift! Or be able to avoid having to wear it for her future daughter by law’s amusement…

“I think that it’s simply perfect!” Sansa gushed, smiling. 

Sansa gasped as a dark shadow fell over both of them. “The little bird’s wanted.”

Sandor! She fought the urge to smile at him and put on an appropriately despondent look.

“Now?! Joffrey has finally emerged from his… oh, very well!” Margaery snapped at the large warrior.  Sansa tried hard not to look him all over like a ravening dog finally given its meal.  But from the few glimpses she could take she thought he looked tired, dark shadows under his eyes, a thick growth of stubble, hair lanker than ever… her heart ached for him.  How must it have been to be locked away with Joffrey day in and day out? He deserved a very special Sevenmas gift.

“Sansa… I wish I could make Joffrey leave you alone.”  Margaery took Sansa’s hands as Bronn idled over.

“What’s this then?” the mercenary asked.

“Taking the Stark girl.” Sandor growled at him.

“Very well.  I’ll get the flower back to the Keep.  Keep her company, like.” The fair haired stallkeeper hung from his arm as he spoke. Margaery smiled at her and she smiled back.

Sandor glared at the sellsword but said nothing. He nodded at Sansa and she meekly followed him through the maze of stalls, back towards the long street heading back to the Keep.

“Did he say what he wants?” she asked hesitantly.

“What’s that, little bird?”

“Joffrey?”

“Never said it was Joffrey that wanted you.  Nor that he’d be the one taking you.” Those dark eyes on her.  All over her.

“Oh!”

He whispered, his hoarse voice stirring her up between her legs as he did. “Missed you, little bird.”

“And I you.” She sighed. “It has been a long time… my love.” She was cautious, but pleased by his response, the twisted smile that spread on his lips, the warmth in his usually angry eyes.

Then suddenly he was pulling her into an alley, a shadowy corner off of the main street that the Gold Cloaks seemed to have missed.  Perhaps because it did not appear to go anywhere.  But Sandor seemed to have ideas about where it lead to, pulling her quickly down it by her hand.  Almost as he had done in her dream of the wood and the snow!

“I’ll be gentler next time, I promise.” He whispered in his deep voice as he pushed her against the wall, making her gasp at the suddenness of the movement.  “I’ll take my time with you, and work my way from your fingertips to your toes.  I’ll make you shudder and moan over and over again.  But this time… we must be quick.  Because I have to have you, Sansa. Now.”

And it _was_ now.  He unlaced himself with one hand as he pulled up at her skirts with the other.  And the roughness of the brick wall behind her back was the roughness of the bark as he pulled at her underthings, ripping them away before he found his way to her, pushing into her with a passionate force just as she had dreamt of it. She gasped.  But the sight of him after so long, and his soft words about missing her, had already made her wet and ready for him.  And the ferocious need of him, the hunger in his eyes as he roughly thrust in and out of her, soon had her moaning deeply as the pent up fire in her was released for him.  She almost howled as she had in her sleep, but he carefully placed his large hand across her lips, and silenced her.

“I vow… next time.  But please, please Sansa, be quiet.”

She nodded and he removed her hand, dipping it between them to rub at her point of pleasure, spinning her away into a crashing wave of want that was a hundred times more than she had felt in the Maiden’s dream.  And then he was releasing within her, growling with the force of it, matching her trembling, shuddering response to his touch and his manhood deep within her. 

She held him as he regained his breath, trailing fingertips over his scars, his lips, his eyebrow.  His grey eyes looked deep into hers.

“It has been too damn long, little bird!  Damn Joffrey and his damn chambers! Every time I thought of leaving him, so desperate to be with you I near went to howl and bark at your door, he’d wake and call for me to sit by him in the fucking dark!”

 “And now?” They righted themselves, Sansa carefully straightening her dress and skirts.

“He’s still jumping at shadows.  But his bloody mane’s regrown.  And his pride is no less for having seen what it would be like be in a gutter without his fucking name.”  Sandor growled. “But I tell you this, and I vow it too, we’ll not be apart for so long again, little bird.”

She smiled shyly up at him.  “Thank you… thank you for the Maiden’s Night gift.”

“I near scratched at your door that night with my claws, would have near ripped through the oak and iron to be near you. Don’t like Sevenmas. Don’t like the gods much either.  But I would have killed a hundred men just to see you place that little sugar lemon in your mouth, Sansa.  I only had my imaginings of it.  Weren’t enough, even though it made me take myself in hand.  Yet again.”

She blushed at the thought of him pleasing himself, thinking of her. “I dreamt of you last night. Maiden’s Night.”

His eyebrow raised itself. “Maybe I do like the fucking gods after all, if they’re telling you that I am your love.” He reached out for her hand.  “Perhaps Sevenmas aint that bad…”

A patrol went past and he pushed her further into the shadows. “Need to get you back to the Keep.  Bronn knows I’m escorting you, and the twat’ll never keep his fucking mouth shut if he thinks we’ve taken too long.”

“I have a present in mind for you.  For Sevenmas day.  If you can come find me in my rooms then?”

“Aye, might be I have something in mind for you too. I’ll get there.  If Joffrey tries to fucking stop me, I’ll rip through him as well as the bloody door!” He kissed her then, a soft sweet kiss, a kiss that spoke of future softness between them after the delightful roughness of their frantic coupling in the alley.

“Come now.” He gently took her upper arm in his large hand and guided her back to the street, giving the impression of pulling her harshly towards the Keep as soon as they were in sight of Gold Cloaks, who sniggered and called out crass things when they saw the traitor’s daughter in the hands of the king’s dog.

***

Sandor followed her this time, and it gave her a curious sense of power.  A strange thrill.

Before, whenever they’d left the Keep together, he had been the one to give her short sharp orders, to keep them both away from Illyn Payne’s wooden block and broadsword.  But now she was the one who knew where they were going and what gifts she had in mind for him.  He carried something heavy in a large pouch at his waist, but when he’d snuck his way into her chambers he’d whispered to her that they should exchange gifts at the same time this Sevenmas night.  Whispered in his dark voice as he had knelt over her on her bed, tracing kisses along her jaw and against her chest, pulling her back laughing as she tried to escape from him to dress in disguise for the city.  Gifts later, she had said, steeling herself not to give in to his embraces.  _All_ gifts later.

Now she took him quickly through the city streets, both dressed in dark hoods and cloaks.  They might not have been necessary, though.  For almost all of King’s Landing seemed to be taking in the spirit of Sevenmas by the bottle and the goblet.  Drunken men and women caroused in the streets, wearing their best clothes… or most of their best clothes as tunics as bodices were discarded. Sansa concentrated on the task ahead however.  Margaery’s instructions had been very clear, but this was somewhere she had not been before.  Something she had not done before.

Sandor’s questions on their way had gotten him nowhere.  He seemed to dislike the unknown, and as a warrior, and as a swornshield she was not entirely surprised that he was on edge.  She also felt a little unsettled, she had to say.  But she had reassured him with sweet kisses that had only slowed them down as he had tried again to get her into dark and shadowy corners in the streets, until, laughing, she had withheld kisses until they got to their destination.

Sansa found it at last, the narrow house, plain and unassuming, between other similar abodes no one would remark upon.  Margaery had helped by finding this particular, discrete, brothel.  Strangely she had not trusted Olyvar to bring what was needed to the Red Keep this time. But she’d provided much of the coin needed for this gift.  A hostage of the crown did not exactly have golden dragons a plenty, but Sansa thought owing the Tyrell was worth it, if Sandor did indeed like his Sevenmas gift.  His _gifts_.

Sansa cautiously knocked in the rather odd pattern Margaery had described, and they were let in, the Hound, suspicion and uncertainty writ on his face, ducking to get in to the small house.

The ground floor was a scented room of rich velvet couches and purple silken drapes and Sandor paused as the doorkeeper, an old withered woman, bobbing and smiling, moved outside to watch the front for spying eyes.

“What’s this?!”

“Your gifts may be upstairs still preparing…”

He frowned. “Whores?”

Her smile died at the dark look on his face.  “A gift for you. Two gifts.”

Footsteps before he could reply, and two naked women appeared from the upper floor.  Naked apart from the animal masks Margaery had procured again.  A cat and a mouse.

“Sansa” There was a darkness in his voice, and Sansa realised suddenly that he wasn’t happy.

“Some men like new scabbards. Or to watch women together. I thought…”

The women, a curvy brunette and a fair haired blonde with smaller teats were already teasing and moving against each other.

“Scabbards? ‘ _New_ scabbards’?!” Sandor growled. “You want me to do this?! Do them?!”

“Margaery said-”

“Bugger the Tyrell girl!” The brunette whore flinched. Odd that such language should concern a whore. “Sansa! I’ve not seen you for weeks and now you think I want other women?!”

“Men do-”

“What pleases you, little bird?”

“You do, Sandor.”

“Aye.  And you please me.  If you want to play with them, then do it.  You want us to watch while they mount each other, then we’ll do it.  No doubt the Tyrell coin has them wet and ready.  But don’t ask me to bury myself anywhere but in you.”  He sat down heavily on a couch, leaving it in her hands.  Sansa stood, confused and unsure.

The brunette whispered to the blonde, and the blonde nodded. “My lady.  We will play with each other if you want to watch with your lord?”

Sansa sat more primly next to Sandor.  “There’s no harm in that, I suppose.” She remembered the cat and the bear from their Stranger’s Day adventure.  He had enjoyed hearing what she could see from their high perch above the common room of the tavern. 

“Sandor.  Forgive me.  I do not know much about men’s desires.”

“You know mine.  You know now.” He moved towards her on the couch, moving behind her and placing his large hands around her shoulders, moving them about her neck and into her hair.  “I prefer red hair anyways.”  His lips were on her throat, as his hands moved to rub and roll her breasts through the serving girl’s dress.  The blonde moved behind the brunette and copied the caresses, making the brunette arch back, the long length of her body and her… cunt… visible.

“I have something for you too.” He growled into her ear, fingers finding their way into her bodice to pinch at her nipples before leaving her, and leaving her moaning in frustration.  The brunette was luckier, or so it seemed, the blonde caressing her nipples into points of desire as the darker haired girl reached behind her to cup and fondle the blonde’s slit.

She felt Sandor move behind her and the heavy weight of something cold against her chest.  A necklace.  The gaudy opal necklace from the marketplace.

“I went back.  Seems the Tyrell girl changed her fickle little mind and went for something else.  I know you liked it.” The whores paused to look over, before the blonde dragged the brunette into a full mouthed kiss.

She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her face. He had heard them talking about it, but he had completely misunderstood her enthusiasm!

“Its… lovely.”  It must have cost him the rest of the Stranger’s Day gold that he’d taken from Joffrey! All of it!

“You don’t really think it is, do you, girl? Remember, a dog can smell a lie.”

“Margaery was going to buy it for Cersei, as a torment.  It’s rather-“

“Ugly. Aye, I did wonder about your taste when I saw it.  And I couldn’t keep buying you such expensive things-” he looked genuinely sorry.  But she didn’t want his coin!

“I don’t want you to!”

“But I’d do anything to make you happy.” He took it off her again, and she felt suddenly much lighter, either from the lack of it, or from the relief of them both finally knowing what the other wanted.

“There’s only one thing I truly want, Sandor.”

“To go home?”

They’d not spoken of that for a long time.  She shook her head. “You.  All I want is you.  Here in King’s Landing, in the Keep, if that is where we are bound to.”

He groaned and suddenly pushed her back against the couch, moving over her, showing her his desire by pressing hard against her.  “I’ll be making good on that promise now, little bird.”

“Which promise?”

“To work my way from your fingertips to your toes…” He took her hand and laid his lips against her fingers.

Sansa looked up at the whores, who’d mostly stopped their caresses in the light of their clients’ obvious disinterest. “What about them?”

“Merry Sevenmas girls.  Now bugger off!”

The blonde shrugged.

“And take the back way out.  We’re going to be very busy here.”

“How do you know that there’s a back way out Sandor?”

“There’s always a back way out in a brothel, little bird.” He growled, turning to her again.

The golden haired one turned to head back up the stairs, to dress again and leave, unsatisfied, but still richer for her evening of very little work.  However the brunette stayed still for a moment longer.  Sansa looked at her brown eyes through the cat mask, and thought, perhaps, that they were almost familiar.  And almost disappointed. 

But then she was gone too, skipping up after the other girl, slipping a hand over her rump and then clasping her breast.

Sandor was working on her palm, laying fluttering kisses against it with his twisted mouth.

“Sandor. There might be something else I want for Sevenmas.” She was hesitant, unsure about asking for anything now.

“Hmmm.” He was busy on her wrists. “Anything.”

“There is some jewellery I did want.  A pendant.  Silver, not costly like the opal.”

“So the little bird does like shiny things.  And I thought you were a songbird, not a magpie.”  He was dotting kisses up her forearm.

“It’s a pendant with a long chain.  Long enough to rest deep within my bodice.”

“Yes? And what’s on this pendant?  Sapphires to match your eyes, my love?”

“A dog.  A little dog running, made of silver.”

Then he skipped over many parts of her and instead kissed her deeply on her mouth, making her moan. “It’s yours. As am I.”

“And what would you have Sandor?”

“You. Always.”

“Then we must find a way to make that so.” She smiled as his fingers went to work on the serving girl’s dress, pulling at the laces and freeing her.  “Merry Sevenmas, Sandor.”

His mouth was busy, full of her breast, tongue rasping over her nipple.  And soon she could not speak at all.


End file.
